


Minor Falls and Major Lifts

by revolutions_revelations



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, M/M, song lyrics are important, sorry but viktor is having a hard time, starts before episode 1, victor is spelled viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9227534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolutions_revelations/pseuds/revolutions_revelations
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov has lost inspiration. There's only so many times a man can win before it starts to mean nothing. Thankfully, someone comes crashing into his life (with a stripper pole) and reignites a fire in him.Basically, pining!Viktor ft. Hallelujah by Lenard Cohen as his exhibition.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this work centers around Viktor's exhibition piece, which is unknown in the series. I took the liberty to choose one for him and I figured Hallelujah by Lenard Cohen would be the perfect piece. I mostly listened to George Blagden's and Pentatonix's versions of the song. You can find them on Youtube!  
> Anyways, thanks for reading!

When Yakov asks Viktor about his exhibition song choice, Viktor just shrugs. He absentmindedly scrapes his skates against the ice, watching small chips flake off the ice. It’s not like he hasn’t been looking. He’s spent the past year looking. Usually he has his pieces planned before the previous season is even over. It’s the only way to keep himself occupied. This year, however, no song has really spoken to him yet.

His short program and free skate music were found easily enough. He wanted his audience to be surprised, so he shied away from his usual musical choices and went with The Lilac Fairy and Stay Close To Me. The connection between the pieces wasn’t intentional at first; he just wanted to show the audience a softer side of their beloved Viktor Nikiforov. He didn’t realize his true theme until he was pressed about it during his media conference.

 

_“Mr. Nikiforov! How are your two pieces related? Surely you had something in mind to connect the Sleeping Beauty ballet and the Aria?”_

_The reporter asking waits patiently as Viktor frowns. It’s obvious after a few moments of silence that Viktor does not have an answer prepared. He tries to ignore the cameras pointed at him as he searches for the feeling he was drawn to when picking the pieces._

_“Well,” he says slowly, trying to turn his jumbled thoughts and vague feelings into coherent sentences, “honestly, I picked them without a theme in mind; they just both tugged at the same feeling in me.” He pauses. “But now that you ask, I think this feeling is longing. My theme is longing.”_

_The room takes in his answer as journalists quickly scribble notes and cameras flash in quick succession. Everyone recognizes that they are seeing a previously unknown side to the legendary skater. His usual energy and enthusiasm are subdued and his flashy charm is nowhere to be found._

_“And what are you longing for, Mr. Nikiforov?” a brave, young reporter shouts from the back of the room to break the uncharacteristically somber mood. There are sniggers and titters at the question._

_Viktor mentally swats away the blanket of heaviness that he feels bearing down on him and chuckles. His demeanor changes back to his usual charming self. “I am longing for another gold, my friends. Thank you for your time. Goodnight.” He gives the cameras one last famous Nikiforov smile and wink before exiting the conference room._

 

“Vitya, stop ruining the ice. Do you have a piece in mind yet or not?” Yakov demands.

“Not yet. I’ll have one by tomorrow,” Viktor promises.

“I told you to have one by today. You need something else to work on. I can see you getting bored in the middle of the Aria already,” Yakov says, annoyed. “You’ll never win like this.”

Viktor waves his coaches observation away and decides that he’s done for the day. “Tomorrow, Yakov. Tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads off the ice.

 

Viktor sighs as he drops down into his couch. He opens his phone to start browsing through music, determined to find something that he can really connect to. _Longing_ , he thinks to himself. The media had taken his words and splattered them across headlines the next day, much to his own amusement. They tried to speculate what a legendary figure skater could be longing for, but the truth is, even he doesn’t quite know. It’s just a feeling that’s been tugging at his gut. Yakov had complimented on the improved lightness of his quads, but he feels heavy all the time. Every day, it’s harder to drag himself off his mattress and pull on his skates. His arms feel like they’re constantly holding the weights from the gym. Somehow he’s flying off the ice higher and faster, but his chest feels tight and constantly short of breath.

 _I’m bored. That’s all. I just need some inspiration._ Viktor sighs as he uses his last ditch option and scrolls through playlist that supposedly matches his theme for this season. Mila had emailed the link to him as a joke after his infamous press conference. “For Viktor Nikiforov’s longing heart,” is her idea of a good subject line. 

Viktor quickly writes off the songs that are obviously there as a joke. Half of them are cutesy breakup songs mostly written by the American singer, Swift. He stops curiously at one of the serious choices that Mila was so kind to include in her playlist. It’s a famous piece, but it’s a new arrangement by one of his favorite artists. The first two chords ring into his living room and he finds himself willing to finish the song.

_Baby I've been here before_

_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor_

_I used to live alone before I knew you_

_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_

_And love is not a victory march_

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

He has to pause the audio after that stanza. He can hardly hear the piece anymore over the sound of his pounding heart. Silently, he thanks Mila and sends the song to Yakov. _I want this one._

 

“This is different, Vitya,” Yakov says. His eyes are searching Viktor, trying to figure out what the _hell_ has happened to his star student. Viktor knows how to be serious when the moment calls for it, but those moments are rare and right now, Viktor is almost _too_ serious.

“Do you think the fans will like it?” Viktor asks. He tries to ignore his coach’s piercing stare. The old man knows him too well. 

“They’ll love anything you skate to,” Yakov states bluntly. “It’s whether or not you will love it. Are you sure?”

Viktor nods. There’s no doubt in his mind that he wants to skate to this song for his exhibition.

“Fine, let’s get started then.”

 

Viktor works on his choreography all week. Yakov remains relatively quiet during the process, choosing to work with his other pupils instead. Despite leaving Viktor alone to create, Yakov still keeps a close eye on him. In all his years as Viktor’s coach, he’s never seen the 27 year-old in such a mood. His smiles for the fans and paparazzi hanging outside the skating facility don’t quite reach his eyes. He harrasses Yuri Plisetsky a little less, though really not much less, but it’s still a noticeable difference. Even Yuri has quietly asked Yakov if Viktor is okay.

The media picks up on his unusually somber state toward the end of the week. Rumors that this is Viktor’s last season start flying around. The skater hasn’t mentioned anything in practice yet, but Yakov has a dark feeling that the media may be right for once.

“I’m done,” Viktor announces at the end of the week. Everyone stops what they're doing, surprised to finally hear Viktor's voice after his prolonged silence.

Yakov motions for his other skaters to get off the ice. “Let’s see it.”

As Yakov fiddles with the sound system, Viktor skates to the center of the ice and drops to his knees. His eyes are cast downward and his arms are pulled close to his chest. It’s almost like Viktor’s trying everything he can to manipulate his slim, 5’11 frame to look smaller on the ice. The other skaters immediately start muttering amongst themselves. It’s an usual way to start a program.

The music starts and Viktor stays still for the opening chords. He doesn’t gracefully slide to his feet until the singing begins. The movement is beautiful and ingenious, but Viktor looks almost reluctant to begin his program. 

Save for 2 jumps, Viktor stays relatively close to the ice as he glides across the rink. During his spins and his footwork, Viktor is rarely standing in an upright position. The program requires an immense amount of flexibility from the older skater, but he pulls it off. 

When the final hallelujah rings out, Viktor falls back to his knees. This time, his upper body bent backwards and his arms are spread to either side. He looks incredibly vulnerable for a man that used to ooze confidence. Stunned silence fills the arena. Even Yakov, who always has something to say, says nothing. Mila looks close to tears when she starts clapping and soon enough, the rest join in.

“Thoughts?” Viktor asks as he skates off the ice.

Yakov frowns, deep in thought. “Like I said before. It’s different.”

 

Viktor wins. He receives golds at Skate Canada and Trophee de France, automatically qualifying him for the final. There’s no world record this year, but he’s still leaps and bounds above the others. 

At the exhibitions following those two skates, it doesn’t feel right to skate his Hallelujah program. He feels utterly connected to the program, but the timing doesn’t feel right, not yet. It’s put aside and Viktor quickly choreographs three programs to give himself some options. They’re shallow, but fun enough for the audience to eat it all up.

There’s a lull between France and the final. Everyone else is training rigorously, fixing errors that they made during the qualification process. It’s not that Viktor isn’t improving his performance, he just feels bored.

It’s the worst feeling in the world. 

Much to Yakov’s dismay, Viktor starts trying to land quad axels in practice. He’s flinging himself into the air in an attempt to get four and a half rotations before his skate hits the ice. Mostly, though, he just falls. He has new bruises and sore spots every day after practice. It hurts, but at least it’s not boring.

“You’re going to kill yourself doing this. Or even worse, you’re going to kill your knees and ankles,” Yakov yells at him. “You’re too old to start trying quad axels.”

“There’s nothing else to try. I fixed my Ina Bauer last week,” Viktor replies. “Do you want me to work on a 5 revolution toe loop instead?” 

Yakov growls, but knows he’s lost the fight. “Don’t blame me if you get injured before the final,” he huffs and storms away.

Viktor sighs as he watches his coach leave to work with someone less irritating. The old man is right; this isn’t smart and definitely not safe. His elbow is throbbing painfully from his last fall. Really, he’s lucky that he hasn’t fractured anything yet. Viktor attempts one more, landing awkwardly with a hand down. _At least it’s not a fall_ , Viktor thinks grimly. He glances at the clock and decides that he’s had enough.

Yakov watches Viktor leave without saying a word to anyone. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Yuri asks harshly. 

“A skater without inspiration is as good as dead,” Yakov says. 

“Is Viktor dead?”

Yakov shrugs. “We’ll see.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so we get to the infamous banquet...

Viktor doesn’t use Hallelujah for his Grand Prix Final victory either. It still doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for and Yakov is even more confused.

“What has gotten into you lately? You made a beautiful program. Why won’t you skate it?” he nags.

“Coach Yakov, I already told you, I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right. Now, please leave me alone.” Viktor sighs. He’s supposed to be getting ready for the banquet tonight. He doesn’t know why Yakov is still interrogating him over the phone. 

“Do you want to retire?” Yakov isn’t shouting anymore. He sounds tired, like his age is finally catching up to him.

Viktor groans and buries his face in his hotel mattress. The last thing he wants to think about is his future. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “Maybe.”

“Don’t. It’s a waste of your talent.” Yakov hangs up abruptly. It’s his gruff way of asking Viktor not to go.

Viktor lays with his phone resting on his chest for a few minutes, staring at the cracks of the ceiling. Eventually, he forces himself to squeeze into a designer suit and part his silver locks into his signature hairstyle. He practices smiling a few times in the mirror. When he’s satisfied that he looks like Viktor Nikiforov, he calls a cab to take him to the banquet.

 

After a round of congratulatory handshakes, people start to leave Viktor alone. After five years of this routine, even the sponsors are probably starting to get bored of him. It’s fine with Viktor. It’s fine. 

He finds himself in a circle with Yuri, Chris, and JJ. JJ is talking about his junior days and how well he managed to adapt to the senior division. Chris is making lewd hand motions behind JJ’s back and Yuri looks like he’s trying really hard not to start a fight.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine too.” JJ winks at Yuri and pats him on the head.

“Don’t touch me,” Yuri growls. He swats JJ’s hand away with surprising ferocity and venom. Well, at least it’s surprising to JJ and Chris. Viktor has been privy to many tantrums from the young Russian boy.

Chris laughs loudly. “Looks like the kitten has claws! We better watch out next year.”

Viktor is slightly amused when Yuri slams his foot down. “I am not a kitten!” he snarls. “And you better watch out because I'm going to beat all of you.”

As the group banter back and forth, Viktor lets his eyes wander. Most people are gathered in similar circles. That’s just the way it is at events like this. People always drift back to their comfort zone after making the introductory rounds. There is, however, a man standing at one of the tables alone. The only company he is keeping is that of nearly a dozen champagne glasses.

Viktor recognizes him when he turns around. Their eyes meet for a brief moment before the man quickly turns back around and immediately downs another glass. 

_The other Yuuri_ , Viktor thinks. He feels a twinge of pity for the man who’s en route to getting completely shitfaced. His performance had not been as bad as the judges and the media made it seem. Sure, he fell on nearly half of his jumps, but his step sequences were simply breathtaking. If anyone else had fallen like he had, they would’ve lost all performance value. Mentally, skaters have a hard time getting back into the music after a fall and Yuuri had 3. He skated on like the music was built into him. You could feel his disappointment, but he made it beautiful.

Yes, Viktor definitely finds the man beautiful. He’s not loudly attractive like Chris nor is he well-groomed like JJ. Something about him is delicate, yet still strong, kind of like the other Yuri, but also completely different. 

Viktor watches him nurse another glass and wonders why no one is stopping him. He’s about to head over there himself when Yuuri straightens up and turns around. His hands grab at the ugly tie around his neck in an attempt to loosen it. Slim fingers pop the top few buttons of his dress shirt open. It’s bad enough that Viktor thinks that the Japanese man a beautiful creature, but now that beautiful creature is drunk off his ass and staring directly at him.

Yuuri trips his way to where Viktor, JJ, Chris, and Yuri are standing. He looks obviously inebriated; his cheeks are flushed and his posture is less than acceptable. Despite all that, his eyes look sharp enough, and they’re piercing right into Viktor.

“Hi, Viktor,” he slurs, slumping against the table that’s nearest to them.

Yuri glares disapprovingly. “Who invited the moron?”

“You’re so angry. Why is this kid always so angry?” Yuuri slurs. “You need to relax. Feel the music around you.”

“Somebody has had too much to drink,” Chris chuckles. “It looks like he’s the only one who knows how to have fun around here.”

“Yeah, we should have fun,” Yuuri agrees with a sloppy smile. “Let’s dance.” A loud scream of anger rings through the banquet hall as Yuuri drags Yuri to the empty dance floor. In his attempt to free himself, Yuri only manages to draw everyone’s attention to them.

There are claps of encouragement when Yuuri asks the DJ to start blasting some music. Everyone can tell that the last place skater is drunk, but they don’t mind as long as there’s finally some entertainment at the banquet. 

Viktor finds himself clapping along and laughing when Yuuri throws his formal jacket into the crowd. His tie quickly follows as a heavy bassline starts pounding through the speakers. In a room full of classically trained dancers, Yuuri starts pulling out some excitingly non-textbook moves. Viktor recognizes a few ballet moves thrown into the performance, but everything is so refreshing, so incredibly sexy, when executed by a drunk Yuuri Katsuki. 

“Move, Plisetsky. Come on!” Yuuri shouts at the immobile boy.

“I refuse to participate in your humiliating dance,” Yuri scoffs.

“I bet you can’t beat me in a dance off. You only know how to twirl like a ballerina!” Yuuri teases.

The slim blonde tenses, unable to refuse the challenge. “Watch me,” he growls through gritted teeth as he stomps to the center of the floor.

Viktor cheers along with the rest of the people. He finds himself laughing until his stomach starts to hurt when Yuuri completely schools his young counterpart. Yuri tries to protest, but everyone, including Viktor, agrees that the win belongs to the Japanese man.

“Who’s next?” Yuuri shouts. He grabs another glass of champagne from a waiter and throws it back like a shot before deciding that it would be more efficient to take the entire bottle instead. Cold champagne spills onto his white shirt as he attempts to take a drink from it. Viktor unconsciously shivers at the sight of the now-see-through white shirt sticking suggestively to Yuuri’s chest.

“He’s quite cute, isn’t he? He’s grown up nicely since our days in Juniors together,” Chris whispers, his breath hot on Viktor’s ear. “Endearing enough to catch the attention of Viktor Nikiforov?”

Viktor tries to keep his composure and shrugs as nonchalantly as possible.

“Well, then you won’t mind if I ask him to dance. Maybe I will even find someone to help warm my bed tonight. My man doesn’t mind sharing,” Chris muses. He’s slinking over to Yuuri before Viktor can think of a way to stop him.

Everyone watches as Chris approaches Yuuri. “Let’s get this soaking rag off of you, Katsuki,” he says as he pops the next few buttons on Yuuri’s shirt. Yuuri goes along with it and before people can realize the inappropriateness of the situation, both Yuuri and Chris are baring their well-defined chests. For a moment, Chris leaves Yuuri to whisper a few words to the DJ. The thrilling bassline is immediately replaced with slow beats and sultry voices. From inside his discarded jacket, Christ retrieves a portable pole and sets it up in the middle of the floor.

“What the fuck?” Yuri exclaims, returning to his spot behind Viktor.

“This may get too racy for young eyes. Maybe the kitten should go to bed,” JJ jokes.

Yuri flips JJ off and forces himself to watch just to spite him. He’s soon regretting it when Chris and Yuuri start moving their hips in the dirtiest ways possible. Yuri is disgusted. Viktor is uncomfortably aroused.

The room watches as the two men strip down to their underwear and bend themselves into uncomfortably risqué positions on the pole. Viktor has to look away multiple times to prevent himself from reaching an embarrassing state. At the end of the third song, Chris dismantles the pole, claiming that he’s done dancing for night. He whispers something in Yuuri’s ear and gestures unabashedly towards the exit. Yuuri blushes and shakes his head, much to Viktor’s relief. Chris looks disappointed as he heads back to Viktor.

“Good luck with that one. You’re a lucky man if you can pull it off,” he tells Viktor. 

Viktor looks over at where Yuuri is pulling his clothes back on. The crowd has dispersed back into the previous groups as everyone loudly discusses what they had just witnessed. Yuuri is alone again, still drunk, but now looking deliciously debauched. He smiles sweetly when he catches Viktor staring. With his jacket half on, Yuuri approaches Viktor.

“Will you dance with me?” he asks. His expression is innocent and sincere, a huge contrast to his racy dance with Chris. “Nothing crazy. Maybe we can tango,” he suggests.

Viktor doesn’t say anything, afraid his voice may crack or make some other embarrassing sound and give away how he’s feeling right now. He just allows Yuuri to take his hand and lead him to the dance floor. Yuuri’s hand is sticky from sweat, but his grip is soft and gentle. Viktor finds himself pulling Yuuri closer to him as they find a starting position. From his close proximity, Viktor can hear Yuuri inhale sharply when Viktor’s hand comes down to rest firmly on the small of his back. Yuuri’s innocent expression takes on an edge to it. Viktor doesn’t even dare to think about how he’s practically half-hard just holding Yuuri like this.

The music starts and they dance. Viktor doesn’t remember much of the dance afterwards. He’s lost in the heady smell of alcohol on Yuuri’s breath and the way he forgets to breathe when Yuuri dips him. Every sense is assaulted by Yuuri during their dance; somehow Viktor manages to move his feet.

Viktor can barely stand properly when the song is finished. He feels every bit as intoxicated as Yuuri. They stand still, clutching each other, afterwards. Whispers start to fill the banquet hall when they fail to separate.

“Will you dance with me again?” Yuuri asks, finally.

“Dance off!” someone shouts from the crowd. Everyone cheers in agreement.

“I- I think I’m done for tonight,” Viktor sputters.

Yuuri’s eyes suddenly go wide and fill with tears. “Don’t leave me!” he begs. “Please?”

Viktor sighs. _Oh god, I can’t say no to him._ “Just one more. You go first.”

Yuuri smiles and it tugs at Viktor’s heart in the most worrisome way. “Watch me, Viktor. Don’t take your eyes off of me.”

 _I couldn’t if I tried_. Viktor keeps his eyes glued as Yuuri starts dancing again. It’s a mix between his dances with Yuri, Chris, and Viktor. Yuuri is electric, sultry, and passionate as he sucks everyone’s attention to focus on every movement his body makes. Somewhere in the middle of the dance, he wiggles his pants off and his tie becomes a bandana. It’s all a whirl in Viktor’s mind.

Yuuri nails his last move and immediately runs back to Viktor. He clutches at Viktor’s waist, his hips still rolling to the beat of the music. He’s only wearing a pair of boxer briefs as he rubs against Viktor. It takes every ounce of Viktor’s self control to not self combust right there and then.

“Viktor—,” he slurs. “After this season ends, please come visit my family’s hot springs resort.” He lets go of Viktor’s waist and looks up, his eyes large and shining. “If I win this dance off, you’ll become my coach, right?” Yuuri flings his arm around Viktor’s neck as he pleads, “Be my coach, Viktor!”

Viktor doesn’t know how to respond. Every nerve in his body is set aflame as he holds this wreck of a man in his arms. It feels like the entire figure skating world is staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“This is ridiculous. I think we’ve had enough for tonight.” Yakov’s familiar rough voice emerges from the crowd. He peels Viktor away from Yuuri’s hot embrace and drags him out of the banquet hall. “You need to get some rest, Vitya. We’re flying back to Russia tomorrow and starting training for Nationals. Right, Vitya?”

Viktor nods, still in a daze. He can’t retire now. There has to be a way for him to skate with Yuuri again. If they can make it to Worlds together, Viktor will be prepared to skate the greatest exhibition of his life. 

 

_“What are you longing for Mr. Nikiforov?”_

Viktor goes to sleep with a name on his lips. _Yuuri._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and commented! I'll try to update again soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor misses Yuuri. It's all angst, sorry.

_“A commemorative picture?”_

VIktor feels his heart drop off a cliff when Yuuri walks away. The commotion in the airport continues, but Viktor’s world stops. He’s never had anyone look at him with the horror that Yuuri expressed. There are always fans that are shy and potential lovers that try to play it cool, but he’s never had someone look at him with such shock and distress.

_What did I do? Does he regret our dance?_ Viktor sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he worries. _He’s probably just embarrassed about last night_ , Viktor manages to conclude. It’s the only reasoning that provides him some peace of mind. For his own sanity, Viktor convinces himself that Yuuri just needs some time to get over his unease. _We’ll see each other at Worlds. I’m going to skate Hallelujah for him and he’ll realize how I feel._

“Are you still moping about that moron?” Yuri asks, interrupting Viktor's silent discussion with himself. Yuri is slumped in the seat next to Viktor with his legs kicked up on the chair in front of them. The fifteen year-old had threatened violence when Yuuri walked away from Viktor. “I am more than happy to fly to Japan, or wherever the hell he is, and kick his ass.”

Viktor is tempted to smile at the way Yuri’s ready to beat someone up in his name. It’s endearing. “I’m not moping, Yuri. Just thinking.”

“Well, quit it. Your thinking is ruining my plane ride,” Yuri grumbles. “Now, tell me what I have to do to be the Junior World Champion.”

 

The Russian Nationals are set to happen a week before the Japanese Nationals. Viktor can’t remember the last time he’s felt so focused in practice. The first few nights back home Viktor spent tossing in turning in bed, unable to expel Yuuri from his mind. Only by throwing all his energy back into skating is Viktor able to collapse in bed, utterly exhausted, and black out for a good night’s rest. 

Viktor practices everything he can possibly practice. From the simplest edge work to the increasingly difficult jump entrances, Viktor ensures that he’s in impeccable shape. He even returns to the ballet studio and forces his twenty-seven year-old muscles to stretch to their limit and then some.

“Vitya, you need to be resting more. Your energy won’t hold up at the rate you’re going,” Yakov warns him. 

“I’m fine. I need to win.” _I need to see Yuuri again._

“You can win without working yourself to death,” Yakov argues. “First you don’t want to practice at all and now this. I don’t understand you, Vitya.”

Viktor knows Yakov has a point, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. This feels like the only way to get what he’s so desperately longing for and Viktor has never been one to ignore impulses.

“It’s that Japanese moron. He thinks he’s in love or something,” Yuri says, his young features twisted in disgust.

Viktor shoots him an exasperated look.

Yakov is speechless for once. His face turns slightly purple as he tries to process the source of Viktor’s newfound inspiration. 

“It’s nothing, Yakov. Don’t worry about it,” Viktor reassures, sensing a lecture brewing. “I’m going to rest this afternoon, okay? Just like you want.” He sends a final wary glance in Yuri’s direction and quickly walks to the dressing room.

Viktor is halfway through changing when Yuri storms inside.

“Don’t you have practice?” Viktor asks when Yuri just stands there with his arms crossed and stares at him.

“I’m on break,” Yuri replies. “You’re in love with the moron. I’m right, am I not?” 

Viktor knows that Yuri won’t leave unless he’s given an answer. “So what if I am?”

Yuri snorts. “You danced with him for one night and you call that love? Pathetic.”

“And you’re an expert on this?” Despite how he acts, Yuri is only fifteen. Viktor can hardly believe he’s being lectured on love from a boy nearly half his age.

“I may not be an expert, but neither are you. When was the last time you had a relationship that lasted more than a month?” 

“Why does this matter to you?” Viktor asks, amused that Yuri’s had the time to keep up with the tabloids.

Yuri frowns. “If this is the only reason why you’re skating, then it’s dumb and uncreative. I don’t want to compete against another dumb person next year. I already have Georgi for that.”

Much to Yuri’s annoyance, Viktor just laughs and ruffles his hair. “Don’t worry, Kitten. I’ll still be able to beat you next year.” He leaves Yuri simmering by himself in the locker room and heads home.

 

Viktor wins gold with Georgi trailing behind him by a gaping thirty points. He tops his previous Nationals overall score by five full points. Every part of his body is exhausted, but the win reminds him of his excitement back in his first years of competitive skating. He stands on the podium with his medal hanging proudly around his neck. As the Russian national anthem plays, the only thought running through his mind is: _Are you watching, Yuuri?_

Viktor's worn body desperately wants to rest before the exhibition tomorrow, but, as the current living legend, he’s forced to sit through the compulsory press conference. 

“Mr. Nikiforov, what inspired such a performance? Your component score shattered expectations. We’ve never seen such an emotionally flawless program before.” The first journalist chosen is the same man who questioned him about the theme of his programs. Just like before, he presents Viktor with a question he’ll have a hard time answering.

“You certainly know how to ask the tough ones, sir,” Viktor chuckles good-humoredly. His remark earns him a few moments to think as the press titters at his charming quip. “I guess I’ve just really connected to the theme of my program,” he finally answers, silently hoping that it will be enough to please the press.

Alas, it’s not.

“So now that you have your gold, what are you longing for, Mr. Nikiforov?” The journalist looks determined to squeeze an answer out of Viktor. 

Viktor’s mouth goes slightly dry as he digs for an answer that won’t result in his face being plastered on the front pages of tabloids for the next month. _There’s no way around it anymore. I’ll have to be honest this time._ “I am longing for a relationship,” he says, bracing himself for the reaction.

The camera flashes momentarily blind him as journalists begin to shout their questions at him. 

Viktor smiles. “No, I’m not in a relationship. That’s why I’m longing for one. I am already twenty seven, so you can imagine I’m starting to get bored of the single life. I’m an old man now,” he jokes. It’s an honest enough answer to satisfy the press, but vague enough that it still plays it safe. Viktor gotten increasingly good at pulling this bullshit off over the years. He excuses himself afterwards, knowing that the journalists will be kept busy enough brainstorming headlines after his stunt.

 

If his press conference wasn’t enough, Viktor’s exhibition the next day sets off a storm in the media circuit. 

_This is for you, Yuuri_ , Viktor thinks as he kneels on the ice. His costume shimmers softly in the spotlight. He had a new one made just for this skate. The white shirt is a simple and loosely fit. In the light, the material is so thin that it’s nearly transparent and a deep V-cut to exposes much of his chest. The pants are plain and black. It’s a far cry from the usual intricate designs and patterns that most of his other costumes boast.

As planned, he stays down on the ice for the opening chords. His head is bent in silent prayer that Yuuri is watching. 

_Well I heard there was a secret chord_  
_That David played and it pleased the Lord_  
_But you don't really care for music, do you?_  
_Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth_  
_The minor fall and the major lift_  
_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

It’s true that Viktor had stopped caring about the music around him. His disconnect from the world was killing his love for skating, for music.

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof_  
_You saw him bathing on the roof_  
_His beauty and the moonlight overthrew you_  
_He tied you to his kitchen chair_  
_He broke your throne and he cut your hair_  
_And from your lips he drew the Hallelujah_

Viktor knew that he had to find inspiration again; he just didn’t know where to turn. Then he saw Yuuri at the banquet; someone who was the physical embodiment of music. Every drunken smile and improvised dance shone with beauty and passion. How could Viktor not be drawn to such a person? Then, Yuuri left with no goodbye, no picture. Nothing.

_Baby I've been here before_  
_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor_  
_I used to live alone before I knew you_  
_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_  
_And love is not a victory march_  
_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

Now, Viktor would do anything to find that fire of a person again. He’s been in this business so long he’s forgotten what it feels like to not be alone. This life is no longer enough.

He ends his exhibition back on his knees, his head thrown back onto the cold ice. Viktor is deaf to the roar of the crowd. The only thing he can hear is the sound of his heart pounding.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Yuuri's perspective and then Yuri has to save the day

“Yuuri!” Pichit waves cheerfully at his roommate. “Hurry, you’re about to miss it!” He gestures at his laptop screen.

“Scoot over.” Yuuri kicks off his shoes and joins Pichit on his bed. He’s been practicing nearly every hour of the day for nationals in deadly fear that he’ll mess up again. The only thing that can get him off the ice for a moment’s rest is to watch the living legend skate his new exhibition. “He’s been keeping this one secret for the whole season. I wonder what he’s going to do.” 

“Wow, even Viktor’s number one fan doesn’t know?” Pichit teases. “I thought you knew everything about him.”

“Shush.” Yuuri playfully shoves his roommate. “He’s about to start.”

Yuuri watches in awe as Viktor glides onto the ice, dressed in his new costume. It’s unfair how Viktor could transform into something even more stunning than usual just by wearing a plainer outfit. _How could I think that I deserve to share the ice with him?_

Viktor’s exhibition is unlike anything Yuuri has ever seen. The legendary skater looks small and vulnerable and deeply emotional. He’s let go of his mature confidence and replaced it with something innocent and pure. Viktor has always been a good choreographer, but nothing in his past works can compare to the perfection that’s playing out on the laptop screen.

When the program ends, Pichit lets out a low whistle. “Whoever made Viktor skate a program like that is one lucky person,” he says. 

“Huh?” Yuuri is still stunned by the performance and only manages to the single syllable.

Pichit laughs at the expression on Yuuri’s face. “He must’ve had someone inspire him. We can’t skate programs like that without inspiration,” he explains.

 _Who could catch your attention? Who is worthy of you, Viktor?_ Yuuri watches his idol wave at the crowd. The cameras, Yuuri decides, don’t do him justice. Hard pixels and lagging streams can’t capture the smoothness and grace of Viktor’s movements. The shine of his hair is reduced to nothing but a lens flare on the screen. Yuuri wishes more than anything to be worthy to see Viktor in person one more time.

“You’ll skate with him again,” Pichit answers Yuuri’s silence. Yuuri turns and looks at his best friend in surprise. Pichit throws an arm around Yuuri, pulling him in for an embrace. “We’ve lived together for four years now. I can tell when you start overthinking. You’ll make it back there someday, okay? I know it.”

Yuuri feels tears threaten to start spilling. “Thank you, Pichit,” he whispers gratefully.

 

Viktor is more nervous watching the Japanese National Championship than he was nervous actually skating at his own national championship. He pushes everyone out of the way and occupies the center chair during the viewing.

“I bet he’s going to mess up again,” Yuri says.

Viktor whips around and glares at the young skater before returning his eyes to the screen. The cameras show Yuuri talking to his coach before his short program. Yuuri is considerably paler than what Viktor recalls from the banquet. The faint dusting of pink on his cheeks is gone and his lips are pulled in a tight, worried line. Viktor’s stomach drops at the sight. _He’s too anxious._

The start to Yuuri’s program is shaky. He gets enough rotations on his opening quad toe, but touches his hand down to the ice so that he can stay up. 

“Pathetic,” Yuri mumbles, much to Viktor’s annoyance.

His following triple-flip, half-loop, triple-toe combination is changed to have a double toe at the end instead. It’s not a huge mistake, but points are lost and the grade of execution takes a hit. As usual, his step sequence and choreography are performed masterfully. Viktor flushes when he remembers the way Yuuri twirled around him with passionate footwork during their dance together. 

“He’s a beautiful skater,” Mila says as Yuuri drops into his combination spin. Viktor hums in agreement.

The program is nearing its end when Yuuri attempts his triple axel. His stamina is unbelievable, but his knee is stiff from nerves. Everyone gasps when Yuuri falls, landing painfully on the ice. He’s unable to do much more than get himself to the center of the ice in time for the music to end.

“That’s just too bad,” Mila sighs.

“Predictable,” Yuri mutters.

Viktor stares at the screen in silence as the scores are announced. They’re nowhere near what is expected of a world-class skater. Yuuri will be lucky to even place top five if he can shake off his mistakes and skate a decent free program.

“Viktor, are you alright?” Mila asks. She places a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

Viktor nods despite the fact that his hands clutched in shaking fists. He digs his nails into the fleshy palm to bring himself back from the half-angry, half-devastated trance. Viktor swallows thickly, unsure whether he’s more angry at the judges for not seeing the beauty in Yuuri’s skate or at Yuuri’s coach for not working to help him contain his nerves. One thing is sure, he’s not angry at Yuuri. The only emotion that he feels when thinking about Yuuri is a devastating longing. Maybe it’s over-dramatic and exaggerated, but Viktor has gone so long without feeling much at all, making this all the more potent.

“I guess you won’t be seeing him at Worlds,” Yuri says. He drops his usual mocking tone, which he only does in the most extreme cases. Instead, he sounds careful; like he’s gently poking around Viktor to gauge a reaction.

“I guess not.”

 

Viktor doesn’t know what to do with himself after Yuuri spectacularly bombs the Japanese Nationals. At first, he felt that there was no point to training for Worlds anymore, but that thought was quickly swept aside by Yuri the next day.

“Can you quit moping?” Yuri demands angrily at Viktor. He pushes Viktor down onto the ice for good measure.

“What the hell, Yurochka?” Viktor winces in pain.

“Number one, you don’t get to call me that. Number two, you are the single most idiotic man that has ever walked this Earth. What the hell is losing at World's going to do for you, huh?” Yuri doesn’t wait for an answer. “Nothing! It’s going to do fuck all for you.”

“Language,” Viktor mumbles as he sits up.

“Fuck you,” Yuri spits. “I looked up to you because I thought you were better than this. That moron, Yuuri Katsuki, looks up to you too. When he dragged his drunk ass over to us, he only had eyes for the legend. He didn’t care about second place Chris or third place Mr. Asshole. If you lose at World’s, you’ll have no chance to seduce that idiot again. You will be a disgrace. No one wants to love a disgraced, old, wasted fraud.”

Viktor stares up in open-mouthed shock at the seething young boy in front of him. Surprisingly, he makes sense.

“Don’t look at me like that. Go and practice, idiot,” Yuri scoffs.

Viktor scrambles to his feet and shakes off the pain of his fall. Yuri makes one final angry _hmph_ and skates away to practice his triple axels. Viktor just shakes his head in astonishment and joins him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a shorter chapter to end this fic, but we all know that the best stories have no endings. This is just a transition to the beginning of the story we all love.

Viktor maintains his legendary status at the World Championships and decides to skate his Hallelujah exhibition one more time. He’s not crystal clear on what he is hoping to achieve with another emotional performance, but it’s somewhere along the lines of finding Yuuri. Or rather, helping Yuuri find him. 

It’s not like Viktor can’t get in contact with Yuuri again, it just feels like it should be Yuuri that contacts him first. The few pictures Viktor has from the banquet constantly remind him that Yuuri was beyond drunk. It would be unfair to hold him accountable for everything he said. All Viktor can do is skate and hope.

“Go home and think about your future, Vitya. Let me know when you have an answer,” Yakov sighs after Viktor’s last press conference of the season. “Will you be at the banquet tonight or should I tell your sponsors not to bother showing up?”

“I think I’m going to go home,” Viktor says. He rubs tiredly at his eyes. Some of his concealer comes away with his hands, revealing dark bags and the beginnings of wrinkles. The signs of a decade’s worth of pushing his body to the limit are finally starting to show. Makeup is suddenly a priority every morning and Viktor has become more and more familiar with anti-aging face masks. Even his signature silver locks are starting to fall out at an alarming rate. The only thing still holding up are his muscles and joints. It’s somewhat of a miracle.

Yakov nods. “I’ll let them know then. Get some rest.”

Much to the old man’s surprise, Viktor embraces him. “Thank you, Coach Yakov.”

Yakov awkwardly pats his star student on the back. “Clear your head before you come to me with a decision, okay?”

Viktor promises and parts ways with his coach. When he lands in Russia, it’s late at night, but despite everything, Viktor doesn’t feel tired. Physically, he’s quite exhausted, but his mental state is far from it.

He’s lazing on his couch, scrolling through the latest tabloid headlines about his life as imagined by people with very little else to do. Some celebrities refrain from googling themselves, but Viktor finds that it’s highly entertaining. He’s halfway through a hilariously untrue article titled, “VIKTOR NIKIFOROV, RUSSIAN SKATING LEGEND— IS HE THE SECRET FATHER OF _THIS_ CHILD?!,” when a text from Mila pops up on his screen. 

Mila_B: viktor, you have to watch this

Mila_B: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5u3RGhznctE 

V: Why

Mila_B: just do it

Mila_B: don’t say i never did anything for you

Mila_B: you owe me after this

Mila_B: are you watching

Mila_B: ?????????????

Mila_B: viktor

Mila_B: viktor

Mila_B: vitya

V: i’m about to watch it, shut up

Viktor sighs and clicks on the video link. He does a mental double-take when his eyes scan the title: _[Katsuki Yuri] Tried to Skate Viktor’s FS Program [Stay Close to Me_ ]. It’s not an elaborate prank or anything of the sort; it’s actually his Yuuri skating the program on the screen. He looks a little out of shape after dropping out of competitions for a few months, but his movements are as beautiful as always.

_He skates it better than I do_. Viktor watches in awe of the raw emotion Yuuri is able to channel. It’s unlike anything that he’s ever seen before. There’s no conscious effort or elaborate caricature that most skaters have to resort to when skating an emotional program. Even Viktor has to get himself in the right zone and consciously channel his feelings into his skate. It’s different with Yuuri. The emotions are just _there_. He doesn’t have to put on a façade for his audience to understand what he’s feeling. The only time Viktor has achieved this was during his free skate at the Russian Nationals.

When the video finishes, Viktor replays it again, and again, and again. Viktor doesn’t often make assumptions, but it seems fitting for Yuuri to respond to Viktor’s exhibition with a skate of his own. _Is this your message to me? Is this all for me, Yuuri?_

Viktor still dreams about Yuuri’s last words to him. _Be my coach, Viktor!_ Since the banquet, the words have replayed themselves in his head in an unending loop. He’s been going half crazy trying to figure out whether Yuuri was serious or not when he asked. But now? Now, maybe he has the answer. 

It takes maybe 10 minutes of pacing around the kitchen for Viktor to decide. He has all his belongings packed and a plane ticket booked for himself and Makkachin within the next 5 hours. Honestly, it’s one of the easiest decisions of his life. It’s also probably one of his most impulsive ones, but his instincts are rarely wrong and he’s not going to stop trusting them now.

 

Viktor lands in Japan as the sun is rising. It’s snowing gently as he hails a car outside the airport. With the help of Google Translate, Viktor manages to ask for the hot springs resort in Hasetsu and is soon on his way. To fill the silence, the driver turns the radio on to a news station. The static voices talk in soothing Japanese as the car trudges through the wintry weather. Halfway through the ride, Viktor hears the newscasters mention a few familiar words. _“Katsuki Yuuri… Youtube… Viktor Nikiforov…”_ He smiles and leans back on the crumbling faux-leather seats. It’s a silly thought, but suddenly Viktor feels like the world is telling him that he’s doing the right thing. 

_I’m coming Yuuri. I’ll stay close to you this time._

He reaches for his phone to send Yakov a text. The old man isn’t going to like it, but Viktor knows that there’s only one possible future that he would be satisfied with and it’s a future with Yuuri.

 

The rest is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos along the way! I couldn't have written this so quickly without the motivation. If anyone has any prompts for future fics, my ask box on tumblr is always open!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I really appreciate and kudos or comments and I'll try my best to be good about uploading new chapters. You can come find me on tumblr at katsudonchildren.


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